


Just Like That

by Petrichora_Vellichor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, POV Patience, Patience has a crush on Claire, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23059993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petrichora_Vellichor/pseuds/Petrichora_Vellichor
Summary: Yes, Patience has a crush on Claire, and no, she's not gonna do anything about it. Claire, meanwhile, has other plans...
Relationships: Claire Novak/Patience Turner
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Just Like That

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SPN Rare Pair Bingo challenge (square filled: Claire/Patience) and the SPN Fluff Bingo challenge (square filled: Bookstore AU).

“You know, honey, you _could_ just go over there and talk to her.”

Patience started, swearing softly and just managing to keep from knocking over the shoulder-height bookshelf she was stocking. She looked over the top toward the front counter, where her grandmother, Missouri, had paused filling out order forms and was watching her with a knowing smirk. Patience felt her face grow warm, and she dropped her gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is that so?” came her grandmother’s coy response. “So you mean to tell me you _haven’t_ been sneaking peeks at that pretty blonde-haired girl that works in the bakery across the street ever since she started there over a month ago, and that you _weren’t_ looking at her just now?” 

_Yep,_ thought Patience with an inward groan, _busted._ She sighed and crossed her arms. “Her name is Claire,” she admitted. “We have a few classes together. It’s no big deal.”

“I didn’t say it was,” said Missouri. “I said you should go talk to her.”

“Nope, you said I _could_ go talk to her,” said Patience matter-of-factly, stooping to grab another book from the box. “And I’m not gonna.”

It was true, thought Patience as she heard Missouri huff and walk off in the direction of the backroom, she _wasn’t_ gonna. She’d been not gonna-ing all semester, and it had been working out just fine; in fact, not gonna-ing had proven her most effective strategy so far at not making a fool out of herself in front of others, specifically one Claire Novak, self-assured and gorgeously badass in a way that Patience found as captivating as she did intimidating. Which was why not gonna-ing was clearly her best option. Innovative, fantastic, ten out of ten would recommend to a friend. Not that she had many friends, but whatever. If she did, she’d recommend it to them, simple as that. 

The shop bell chimed just as Patience was setting the last book into place, and she called toward the entering footsteps without looking over. “Hi, welcome to Read Between the Lines, I’ll be right—” she turned and nearly choked on her own breath, “right...with you...”

Claire Novak was standing in front of her. She’d ditched the green apron Patience had seen her in through the window a few minutes ago and was wearing a white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, thumbs hooked loosely in the belt loops of her black jeans as regarded Patience with an easy smile. 

“Hey,” said Claire, raising her chin greeting. 

_Help,_ Patience prayed, to any higher power that might have been listening. She swallowed and schooled her features into what she hoped was a relaxed, friendly, totally-not-freaking-out expression. “Hi.”

“I’ve seen you around at school,” said Claire, gaze dropping briefly to Patience’s mouth before flickering back to her eyes, and her smile widened. “Patience, right?”

“Uh,” said Patience, because what the heck else was she supposed to do? _Seriously, God, or Whoever? I could really, really use some help right about now..._ “I mean, yeah, yeah, that’s right. You’re in my—um, I mean, we’re in the same Econ and American Lit classes. You’re Claire. Right?” she added hastily, lest she seem like some sort of stalker freak. She was absolutely not a stalker freak, _oh God, please don’t let her think I’m a stalker freak..._

“Yep, that’s me,” said Claire, and she was still smiling, so whatever deity Patience had prayed to must have been in a sympathetic mood. “Hey, listen, I know this is totally random, but do you maybe wanna grab dinner sometime? Tonight, even. It’s just,” Claire rolled her eyes and hooked a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the front window, “my boss told me that if I didn’t come over and ask you out already, he’d send over a cake with my phone number on it.”

 _What._ Patience shifted to look out the window and recognized Gabriel, the bakery owner from across the street, watching intently from inside his own shop; when he saw Patience, he grinned broadly and gave her a double thumbs up. “Wow. That’s...wow.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of a dick like that,” said Claire, but she didn’t sound like she held it too much against him. “So, what do you say? Wanna go out, or do you at least want a free cake? ’Cause I’m pretty sure he already made it.”

Patience couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Well, I do like cake,” she said, feeling her own lips twitch into a smile that mirrored the one on Claire’s face, “but I’m also off tomorrow, so…”

“So,” echoed Claire, taking a step closer, “it’s a date?”

 _Oh, it’s a goddamn miracle,_ thought Patience. She felt giddy, lighter than she’d been in ages. _Suck it, not gonna-ing: your services are no longer required._ “Yeah. It’s a date.”

“Cool,” said Claire, grinning as she pulled out her phone so that she and Patience could exchange numbers; when she left a minute later with a wink and a “See ya”, Patience barely managed to wait for the door to close before letting out a squeal and twirling around in happiness...

...only to see her very self-satisfied grandmother smirking at her from the doorway to the backroom. “So,” said Missouri, strolling over to stand at Patience’s side, “a date, huh? Well, isn’t that nice.”

“Grandma,” groaned Patience, hands coming up to cover her face, “please, _please_ don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you told me so.”

“Oh, honey,” said Missouri, patting Patience fondly on the shoulder, then breezing past her toward the register. “I don’t have to.”


End file.
